


Achickalypse Now

by FleetSparrow



Category: Scooby Doo! Mystery Incorporated (TV 2010)
Genre: F/F, being disappointed in supervillains, rubber chickens, science babes being cute, solving science mysteries, terrible attempts at portmanteaus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 22:13:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5472497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetSparrow/pseuds/FleetSparrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Science detectives need their practice, in home or in the field.  Unfortunately, practice mysteries are much more coherent and sensible than real life mysteries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Achickalypse Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Metal_Chocobo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metal_Chocobo/gifts).



Velma’s bed was covered with blueprints, index cards, fingerprint cards, and forensic reports.  Most of these, however, were pushed aside to make room for the bed’s occupants.  Velma and Marcie kneeled on the bed facing each other, challenge flashing in their eyes.

Velma grinned.  “A scientist has made a clone to replace you and locked you in the empty lab.  What do you do?”

Marcie’s glasses flashed in the light.  “Look for makeup and wigs because you can't clone an adult.  Obviously.  Then use the lab to find a way out.”

“Mystery, check!” Velma said, removing her sweater.  “Your turn.”

“You’re trapped in Lab H when a team of thieves break in and cut the power.  They have night vision goggles and you know they're armed.”  Marcie leveled a stare at Velma.  “What's your first move?”

“Get welders glasses, wait until they surround me, and release a series of magnesium flares.  While they're stunned, escape the room and trigger the school's lockdown mechanism to trap them.”

Marcie grinned.  “And science wins a point.”  She pulled off her cardigan.

Velma crossed her arms.  “Uneven clothes matching.  That's a penalty.”

Marcie shrugged and took her shirt off so they were both in their bras.

“Are we looking for a scientific reaction?”  She crawled forward, pushing aside the few scraps of notes that were still in the way.  “Counting your rising pulse?”

Velma leaned back.  “Maybe I want to see you solve the mystery of _passion_.”

Marcie tossed her hair dramatically.  “Scientists may be detectives, but not all detectives are scientists.”  She pounced on Velma, her glasses sliding seductively down her nose.  “Which one are you, Vel~ma?”

They stared at each other, desire and barely restrained laughter in their expressions.

And then Marcie’s glasses fell off her face.

They both burst out laughing.  Marcie snorted and rolled over.  “That was terrible.”

“I can't believe we tried that!”

“Hypothesis disproved.  Experiment failed.  Let's not try it again.”

Velma was still snickering when her mystery hotline rang.

Hitting the speaker, she answered.  “Dinkley Detective Services, what's your mystery?”

_“I'm calling you from the future!  You must stop my past self from causing mass destruction!  You must help!  The Turbo Rubber Chicken factory, please hurry!”_

The line went dead with a clack.

Marcie scrunched her mouth to one side, already dressing.  “A time-travel hoax with a pay phone at a rubber chicken factory.  Is this what you guys always investigated?”

“Pretty much.  Although usually they have costumes.”

“Five bucks says he's dressed like a Doctor What character.”

Velma groaned.  “I won't even take that bet because you're probably right.”

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the factory.

Velma pointed at the building.  “Now, if we assumed it was a trap, we'd stake out the rest of the building and let the decoys go in the front door.”

“You mean Shaggy and the dog?”

Velma blinked.  “Um, yes.”

“So what happens when there's just two of us?” Marcie asked, one eyebrow arched above her glasses.

“We skip right to the walking in the front door part.”

True to her word, that's what they did.

The building was empty of people but full of rubber chickens.  They were everywhere:  on the floor, on shelves, hanging from the ceiling.  And, as they reached the center of the warehouse, in a giant pile of rubber chickens with a chicken throne.

“Behold!” came a voice from behind the chicken pile.  “The army I shall raise for my glory!”

A man climbed up the chickens, wearing a large cape with a Victoriana suit beneath it.  Velma and Marcie shared a dry “Why?” look.

“I am the Rooster Lord!  All shall cower in the wake of my army, my chickengeddon!”

“‘Chickengeddon,’” Velma repeated.  “Are you serious?  You're not even going to try for, I don't know, ‘poultrygeddon’?”

The man frowned.  “Silence, fools!  If you have been sent to stop me, you are too late!  My machine.  Is.  Ready!”  He raised his arms and laughed maniacally.

Mount Chicken fell apart as a machine rose up from the ground, gleaming and glistening threateningly, even with the odd rubber chicken stuck in it.

“Using my machine, I will now travel back to the Land of Chickens and restore them to their natural glory before man made them--”

Marcie held up a hand.  “You know what?  I'm gonna stop you right there.  Rubber chickens were never _actually_ chickens, and your time machine is made of aluminum foil cardboard and a single pipe wrench.”

A chicken fell from the machine and landed with an audible squeak.

The Rooster Lord dropped his arms.  “Well… what about coming to stop me?  My future self clearly warned you!”

Velma huffed.  “If you in the present knew that a future self of yours would call us in the past to stop you now, that would create a paradox.  How far back did your past self know of your future self's actions?  Why didn't your future self stop you, since you already knew about it?  That means that _current_ you made the call yourself.  And, it wasn't that clever to begin with."

"And really?" Marcie said.  "‘Rooster Lord’?”

He pouted.  “Aw, come on!  Didn't you at least think it was a good mystery?  I mean, my time machine _could_ have worked--”

“No, it couldn't,” the girls said in unison.

Rooster Lord sighed and sat down on his pile of chickens, a piercing series of squeaks screaming out as he did.

Velma turned to Marcie.  “And that's pretty much the mystery solving game.  A headache and a few minutes spent in a warehouse waiting for the police to call in breaking and entering.”

"That's upsetting," she said, letting out a lowkey bitter sigh.

She looked around the warehouse at the thousands of rubber chickens and smiled slowly.  "Say, Velma," she began, trailing a hand up Velma's shoulder before resting her head beside hers.  "Have you ever wondered about the sustainable properties of a rubber chicken in zero gravity and how its build might withstand interplanetary space travel?”

Velma blinked, then grinned wide in excitement.  “Well, I'm wondering now!”

**Author's Note:**

> This was a LOT of fun to write. I tried to have them kinda play with flirty personalities at the beginning, but "generic flirt" just doesn't work for them, so snarkiness it is! XD
> 
> I was really happy to get this prompt. I just love these two and I hope I did them justice!


End file.
